A High School Musical Story
by TheaterGeek
Summary: Based off HSM: On Stage! I thought I'd be trying out for our school's production of HSM. I didn't realize I'd be LIVING it. Rated T for language and sexual references in later chapters. Might be boosted to M depending on how much I want to include.
1. Wildcat Cheer

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM, HSM: On Stage, any of the HSM characters, and I stole/adapted the title from "A Cinderella Story."

A/N: Mostly autobiographical account of my experience with HSM. Some liberties have been taken. Some names have been changed. Slight timeline changes have been made. The whole idea of this story came actually from something that our "hero" said to our "heroine"- it'll be explored in chapter 3. And I would like to say up front that I LOVE the stage show, but I HATE the movie. With a burning passion. And that is how it will be. And I will point and laugh at whoever reviews saying "OMG HSM RULZ N U SUX!!!". Oh, and the chapter titles are the song titles from the stage version, in order, with subtitles being quotes from the stage version.

Rated T for language and sexual references in later chapters. Might be boosted to M depending on my mood.

Chapter One  
Wildcat Cheer: It Will be a Happy Wildcat New Year

Ah, the first day of school. Stupid people abounding. Luckily for me, I had classes with people I knew. Er, mostly.

See, this was the first day of my sophomore year at South High, which I hoped and prayed would be better than my freshman year. What made freshman year suck was because of North High. Mostly.

Our town once had just one high school, but the year before we had split into two because we had pretty much exceeded capacity in our school. North was the old high school. South was the new one. So we had bigger, better facilities than North. For example, we have about 1000 seats in our auditorium, and North has half that. Which of course indicates that North is green with envy. In a major way.

So they hate our guts and vandalize our stuff. Granted, my older sister was going to bleach North's football field, but that's beside the point. North kids made us feel like crap.

Anyways, my schedule had been organized with the one and only goal of avoiding that dreaded yet sometimes completely necessary function that is Early Bird, or 0 hour. You see, some people can't get their required classes in if they want to have such electives as band or choir. Or really any elective at all. And so, the school came up with this insane idea to have an extra period before school wherein you have to wake up an HOUR EARLIER in order to have MORE school. Yee-haw, right?

So this year I had to drop choir in order to fit in required classes so that I wouldn't have Early Bird. And pretty much the entire choir program was pissed at me. My voice teacher, my choir teacher, and even the teacher from the elite choir (who heard me sing and suggested I try out for his choir before realizing that, hey, I'm a little freshie who is not allowed) all begged me to stay in. But, no, I could not. Because I want my sleep. That and I would have to be in the all-girls choir which totally sucked freshman year because I wasn't the stereotypical "OMG, so-and-so is such a hottie! I hope he like, totally, likes my new platinum-blond hair that I got dyed just for HIM!" girl.

My friend Carly, and probably Anna, too, were the only reason that I stayed in choir for all of freshman year. They were both pretty well grounded, like me, and didn't have classic teenager syndrome. Now that they had both gotten into the elite choir (and Anna got into the extra-curricular Mega-Elite choir, as well) I had no reason to stay.

So my classes were Spanish II, AP Calculus, AP English Language, Earth Science, AP Human Geo, and Leisure Activities. Leisure Activities was by far what I was most looking forward to. Gym credit for just playing stuff like bocce ball, ping-pong, and darts? Awesome.

But the first thing that caught my eye when I walked into South High was the sign on the door:

"Auditions for our Fall Musical, "High School Musical", will take place on September 20 for freshman and sophomores and September 21 for juniors and seniors. Further information given after school on Friday."

I noticed that there were three different reactions to this poster. There was the group that squealed for the sole reason that it was "OMG _High School Musical_!!!" There was the group that groaned for the sole reason that it was _High School Musical_. Finally, there was the group that just ignored it for the sole reason that it was "a musical."

I fell into the second group. It was an okay movie. For a while. Then I developed a penchant for musical theater and realized that, as musicals went, it sucked. Honestly, the plot was a watered-down mix of _Romeo and Juliet_ and _Grease_. Aside from the leads, the songs don't even sound like they're being sung by teenagers. I mean, there _is _a difference between professional teen singers and professional adult singers. If you aren't watching, and just listen to the music, they aren't energetic at all. And Zac Efron is, in my humble opinion, not that hot. Not that great of an actor, either. I haven't seen _HSM 2_ or _Hairspray_, so I can't really comment on his singing. Believe what you will, but that's my opinion on the matter.

Anyways.

* * *

Sixth hour. Leisure Activities. _Oddest_ teacher ever. Reminded me of Coach Tugnut from "Even Stevens". Ah, for the days that Disney didn't suck.

I leaned against the bleachers. I didn't know anyone in this class, so I figured I'd be the crazy loner chick like I was in second semester biology last year. I longed for the good old days where sulking in the back of the classroom didn't send you automatically to the school psychologist.

I suppose I'm making myself sound like a crazy emo kid. Not that there's anything wrong with being emo, but I don't want to be perceived as such when I'm not. I'm more like the weird, intelligent girl with a chip on her shoulder.

Despite the fact that it was the first day of class, the teacher decided we would start bocce ball there and then. So he moved us outside. Without warning us. So I didn't have a coat because of the damn school rule against jackets in class. Unless they're letter jackets, because no teacher is going to yell at you for exhibiting school spirit. Supposedly the rule has something to do with hiding guns in your coat. But seriously, you could hide a gun in a sweatshirt. In a backpack, or purse. _Those_ are allowed in class…

But I digress.

We headed outside. Mind you, I live in the Midwest US. In September, it is COLD. I don't care what you crazy global warming freaks say, but this warming crap is not affecting my area.

So I was freezing my ass off, and the sarcastic bitch in my brain is thinking something to the effect of "Oh, won't some knight in shining armor offer me their jacket so that I won't freeze to death?"

And just then…

Nothing happened.

So here I am, shivering away as my teacher invites us to sit in the wet grass and yells at whoever doesn't comply. I ended up sitting down next to a guy who wore the infamous "protect your nuts" shirt.

And as I tuned out the teacher's explanation of bocce ball, seeing as how I'd played the game since probably birth, I found myself sneaking glances at the "protect your nuts" guy. He had shaggy, red-and-blonde hair which looked much more attractive than it sounds, with blue-green eyes and glasses. He laughed through most of the teacher's speech.

Though I'd never been one to crush on someone based on looks, I was determined to somehow weasel my way in with this guy.

It had happened. I was finally becoming the stereotypical teenager.

"So what you're gonna do is form a couple, otherwise known as a duo or pair," the teacher explained in his odd, idiosyncratic way of speaking. "Then you will join with another couple, duo, or pair to create what is called a group of four. You will then pick up the bocce set and play according to the aforementioned rules. Any questions?"

Yeah. Who the hell is going to accept me into their group?

Everyone stood at the same time, sectioning off into their groups of friends.

I watched as everyone joined a group, even the other semi-brooding one in the class, who coincidentally found his place with Mr. Protect Your Nuts.

And of course, this was the only group of three.

We-ell, apparently the irony gods don't hate my guts as much as I thought.

So Mr. Protect Your Nuts calls over, "Hey, are you in a group?"

"Um, no," I said timidly, as opposed to my usual apathetic tone.

"Well, we need a fourth, so get over here."

Oh, yes. It will be a good new year.


	2. Start of Something New

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM, HSM: On Stage, any of the HSM characters, and I stole/adapted the title from "A Cinderella Story."

A/N: Mostly autobiographical account of my experience with HSM. Some liberties have been taken. Some names have been changed. Slight timeline changes have been made. And I would like to say up front that I love the stage show, but I HATE the movie. With a burning passion. And that is how it will be. And I will point and laugh at whoever reviews saying "OMG HSM RULZ N U SUX!!!". Oh, and the chapter titles are the song titles from the stage version, in order, with subtitles being quotes from the stage version.

Rated T for language and sexual references in later chapters. Might be boosted to M depending on my mood.

Chapter Two  
Start of Something New: I Will if You Will

Our bocce ball group consisted of me, Mr. Protect Your Nuts- otherwise known as Phil, a girl named Kirsten, and broody loner boy, aka Riley.

"Okay, so was anyone paying attention to that at all?" Kirsten asked. She gave off this space-y air as though she didn't care about anything.

Riley shrugged, and knelt down to open the little green bag that held the bocce set.

"Half and half," Phil said, retrieving two bocce balls and thrusting them into my arms.

I stared down at them. "Hey, why do I get red?"

"Because," he explained, "I want the booger-colored ones." Holding up one for emphasis, he passed the blue ones to Kirsten and picked up the little ping-pong ball from the bag. Riley picked out the yellow ones and took a few steps back, out of the conversation. "They're, like, little, green Hulk balls."

"Hey, Phil, did you see the flyer for _High School Musical_?" Kirsten asked, piquing my interest a little. "What is this school coming to?"

"I know," he groaned, tossing the ping-pong ball onto the court. "Dumb movie."

"Well, my little sister will probably make me try out," I muttered, though I knew I'd end up auditioning because I figured, 'what the hell?'

"And do you always do what she says?"

"Hey, she's been known to bite."

I threw my ball towards the little one on the field. Riley stepped up to throw his.

"But Zac Efron needs to go die in a hole," I offered.

"I hear you there," Phil agreed.

A smile crept across Riley's face as he threw the bocce ball, hitting Phil's ball out of first place.

-----

"Is anyone else already sick and tired of their classes?"

Thus spake Mitch, also known as my chemistry-obsessed, weapons-knowledgeable, slightly obese, elevator-music-loving…

Stalker.

Yup, that's right. Stalker. It's bad enough that I have one. That my stalker has to be an annoying, sadistic, twisted guy with a unibrow is just one more lemon squeezed on my papercut.

"Eh. It's alright," Aly mumbled through her ham and cheese sandwich, lovingly made by her own hands.

It was lunch time, and Mitch, Aly, Carly, and I sat around the table, devouring our respective lunches. It was three days into school, and we had already fallen into a pattern. Third hour would end, Aly and Carly would get their stuff from the third floor, Mitch would save the table, and we'd all group together to discuss religion, politics, and sex. Despite the fact that we had some strange political perspectives clustered and arranged on both the left and right of the spectrum, we somehow managed not to get pissed off at each other about such things.

The one thing that collectively pissed us off was Mitch.

"Go figure, right?" Carly groaned. She looked me in the eyes and said "You don't even _want_ to know what goes on in Chorale."

Chorale was the elite choir that I was unable to get in to. Not that I didn't have the talent, so Mr. Bernstein, the director of Chorale, said last year. No, the reason that I wasn't in Chorale was because I was a lowly sophomore, and, unless you were a guy, sophs couldn't be in Chorale- because it was the elite choir. And apparently sophomores can't sing or something.

See, most, if not all of my close friends were juniors. It was my mother's fault, really. When I was a youngling, my mom didn't want me to skip a grade because it would ruin my self-esteem or some such nonsense. Ironically enough, not skipping a grade was much more detrimental to my mental health than it probably would have been had I skipped a grade. See, being the so-called 'smart kid' who actually paid attention in the slack-off classes (aka band and choir) isn't exactly good for your social status. In my case at least, it led to a huge-ass chip on my shoulder. Go figure.

"Eh. Williamson is a flaming democrat. And you all know how much I hate flaming anythings. Kinney is as boring and monotone as ever," I offered. "And I can just sense impending doom when I look at the student teacher."

Aly and Carly both rolled their eyes.

I continued, "Liberty's pretty awesome, though. Don't think anyone in there realizes I'm a sophomore yet."

"Wait, what class?" Mitch asked.

"AP Calculus."

Mitch's jaw hit the floor. Aly raised an eyebrow as Carly casually continued eating.

"You're in AP Calculus?"

"This is shocking?"

"Um, yeah, not really," Aly said, shooting a questioning look at Mitch. "You didn't know that?"

Mitch continued to stare. Awkward. "How the hell are you in AP Calculus?"

I put on my best mocking I'm-talking-to-you-like-you're-a-first-grader voice and explained, "It's this little thing called… I took a buttload of math at the U the last few years. Some special ultra-smart-kid math program whose name I could never remember. Or pronounce, come to think of it.

"…So yeah."

Aly groaned, fidgeting with her backpack as in the distance we heard the bell ring. "Euro is going to suck."

"Have fun with that," I offered, groaning. My next class involved scaling three flights of stairs.

It was going to be a long school year.

-----

The day ended quickly enough with surprisingly few problems. Aside from the fact that I had to deal with about twenty different people almost running me over to get into the auditorium for the Drama meeting.

Swanny, the director of the show, kept it short and sweet. Reagan, a kind, quiet girl who had been in the same choir as me last year and was currently in AP Language with me was the stage manager. Pretty much he told us the stuff that was on the flyer, what kind of things they needed, and how they were going to do auditions. Pretty simple, actually.

Mr. Bernstein- the choir director who apparently was doing the musical bit of the musical- had horribly miscalculated and only had 30 copies of the music as opposed to the about 90 who had showed up. I was one of the lucky ones who ended up with a copy- which was good, seeing as I had seen the movie maybe once and didn't really know the music.

Pretty straightforward stuff, really. I got to see Johnny again, which was great. I hadn't seen him since July.

I packed up my things and headed home.

-----

"So, uh, Carrie, right? What did they say at the meeting yesterday about the musical?"

I looked over to the person speaking to me, totally missing where I was trying to throw the ball.

And I could not for the life of me remember his name. It was Mr. Protect Your Nuts from the other day.

Mr. "Zac Efron needs to die", Mr. "_High School Musical_ sucks", Mr. "I-hate-theater", asking about the musical?

… There are no words.


End file.
